


Shore Leave

by Fulcrumisthebomb



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pure Unadulterated Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:38:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fulcrumisthebomb/pseuds/Fulcrumisthebomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misfire drags Fulcrum to a circus on shore leave, eager to watch the technician experience everything it- and he- has to offer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shore Leave

**Author's Note:**

> MTMTE #20 broke my heart, and I really really needed fluffy Scavengers stuff.

_"You've never been to a circus?!"_

Fulcrum had never seen Misfire's optics so wide as the jet choked and pointed accusingly at him. The open display of disbelief had caught Fulcrum off guard, prompting him to reply honestly with a shake of his head. He had almost hoped Krok would deny them the shore leave, but their captain had just shrugged silently; which was how he found himself bodily dragged to this bizarre gathering and had spent the last several groon silently marveling at the odd displays.

Misfire was in high form, babbling excitedly the entire time as he ensured they stopped to admire every single stall and sideshow. Fulcrum was particularly interested in the ancient scientific prototypes, sheltered beneath transparent shock fields; Misfire kept pulling him off to the side to watch the aerial display of bonded fliers looping overhead in intricate flight patterns. The caged animals they both passed over quickly after a ragged sparkeater shrieked and clawed at it's confines, sharing a dark look as they hurried past.

Currently they were making their way leisurely through something called a 'Fun Shelter' which, in Fulcrum's opinion, was anything _but._ Crude effigies and rudimentary mechanics were apparently supposed to frighten the inhabitants, but Fulcrum found them all rather silly. Misfire, however, was having mini panic attacks at every turn and seeming to _enjoy_ it by the huge grin on his face.

"Did you see that one?" Misfire urged, clinging to the tech's arm with false shivers. "How could you not? It was trying to grab my leg!"

"Uh-huh," Fulcrum replied dryly, glancing down at his enthralled friend. "You do know that was puppetry- and very poorly executed puppetry at that."

A solid punch to Fulcrum's side provoked a harsh ex-vent. "Of course I do," Misfire said primly, grinning again when Fulcrum chuckled. "When you're safe, you have the freedom to be scared. That's the _point._ "

Fulcrum's laugh died in his intake, surprised by the strangely introspective statement. There were times Fulcrum suspected Misfire was a lot more intelligent than he let on, but those instances were rare; when they did happen, it seemed they were always directed at him. Unsure of how to respond, he simply smiled gratefully and pulled Misfire closer. The jet sighed and snuggled against him, then shrieked as a small fire flared under a display of brilliant lights.

Once their amusing trip through the Fun Shelter was finished, Misfire tugged him toward a colourful vendor and managed to procure enough credits to buy two energon treats Fulcrum had never seen before. They were, for one, a vivid orange- Fulcrum tried to not think about why- and were spun into a semi-liquid state so they could pile upwards out of the cube. Misfire licked at his eagerly, laughing when he caught Fulcrum's look of shock.

"It's cold," Misfire explained, poking lightly at his treat and making several dents. "Quick, idiot, you should eat it before it melts back into the cube."

Tentatively Fulcrum mimicked his friend, swiping his glossa over the tip. Expecting the worst, he was pleasantly surprised to find it didn't taste half-bad.

"Good, isn't it?"

"...Yeah," Fulcrum replied slowly. "Not what I expected."

"Exactly! First time I tried it I flipped out, then bought five more- Hey, hold up." Misfire peered at him with a mischievous smile. "You got some on that lordly chin of yours."

Before Fulcrum could protest, Misfire leaned in and licked a wet trail along his jaw, ending with a softly pressed kiss on the apex of his chin. Fulcrum's optics narrowed as a shudder of pleasure raced across his frame. "That's- That's _cheating._ "

Misfire cackled victoriously. "Why do you think I bought these, huh? I don't play _fair,_ sweetness. You know that."

"Neither do I." Fulcrum's hand shot out, gripping Misfire's wrist and yanking him close again for a proper kiss. Misfire deepened it immediately, chasing Fulcrum's glossa and claiming it with a possessive twist- then they broke apart guiltily as a passersby yelled and whistled.

"We should get back to the ship," Fulcrum mumbled. Misfire made a face but nodded in agreement, linking their arms together as they began wandering toward the exit. They were nearly there when Misfire yelped and darted sideways.

"Look! Look! We have to try," Misfire exclaimed, pointing at a long, low stall nearby.

"'Ranger's Shoot-N-Win'," Fulcrum read aloud, then gave his friend an incredulous look. "I- What? No, Misfire. _No._ "

"It can't be _that_ hard, c'mon!"

"For _you_ it can," Fulcrum grumbled as the jet dragged him forward.

"That's what I love about ya, loser," Misfire pouted. "You're overflowing with encouragement. Just one round! I wanna win a prize for Spin!"

Not surprisingly, one round of the simplistic shooting game turned into two, then three. Misfire kept chanting _one more, one more,_ and at first Fulcrum humoured him. After the fifth try, however, something niggled at the technician's processor. While Misfire was a horrendously bad shot, something about the way the targets rhythmically moved seemed a bit off. Once he noticed all the other eager participants were not walking away with prizes either, he began to pay closer attention.

The game was rigged.

Misfire slouched as his last hit missed, glancing over at Fulcrum sadly. "That's it, I don't have any more credits."

"I do." Fulcrum stepped up beside him, paying the bored attendant. Misfire brightened immediately, grabbing one of the toy guns again. "Wait," Fulcrum warned, settling himself behind Misfire and pressing flush into his back, resting his arm along Misfire's.

" _Oh,_ how fast this went from the worst game to the best!"

"Hush. Concentrate." Fulcrum nudged his chin onto Misfire's shoulder, looking down along the flimsy sight. "Let me guide you. Shoot when I say."

"Mm-hm, whatever you say."

Three shots, three tries. The first was too soon, the second was too late, but now Fulcrum had the pattern down. He anticipated the rubber target shifting backwards as they shot-

_Ping!_

The sleepy attendant started at the sound, looking up in surprise at the twin shouts of triumph. Grumpily he pointed at the prize counter, holding up one digit. Misfire began picking fussily through the pile before he finally made a decision.

"Is it wise to give Spin a toy gun?" Fulcrum asked as they sauntered away from the stall and toward the exit once again. "He'll expect it to work."

" _Exactly,_ " Misfire said gleefully. "Maybe this'll save him from shooting up the med bay walls for a day or two! Krok will be happy."

Yes, Misfire had a lot more going on in his processors than he let on; a puzzle Fulcrum was more than happy to claim as his.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
